Carry It With You
by crescit eundo
Summary: Leave all your loving, your longing behind; you can't carry it with you if you want to survive. Spain/Femmano arranged marriage AU.


If there's anything in here you're confused about, it's probably defined in the notes. The title/description is from the song 'Dog Days are Over' by Florence and the Machine. Otherwise, enjoy!

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><p>In the year 1428 Don Jose Vargas, born in Barcelona but the natural son of Castilian parents, abducted Eldora Anita Torres from a convent the day after she had taken her vows. He fled with her to Rome, where, after a year's imprisonment, Eldora was given a dispensation from her vows and, the happy couple, nuptial blessing and legal marriage by the one-armed priest Alberto Delgado.<p>

All the offspring of this marriage died in infancy but one. This was Alonzo Patricio, who in 1475 married Maddalena Gozzi, a fair but cynical maiden who gave him only two sons: Alvise and Giovanni Vargas. Alvise became a successful poet and secretary to the King of Naples, but his whimsical airs led him to an unsavory end in the gutter, drunk and alone, in 1493.

Giovanni, meanwhile, married Anna Maria, who bore him Giraldo; Giraldo begot Luca; who begot Paolo, who married the courtesan Teresa Catarina in a mild scandal in 1537. Their eldest son, Renzo Gregorio, traveled to Spain and became a priest in the court of the King of Navarre, dying happily whilst penning a poem on the philosophical nature of trees and their relation to the earth.

Calvino Vargas was born of Teresa Catarina three months after his father's death, in 1545. He married Aria Lapaglia, having only one son of consequence: Vittorio. This son married and had three children, one of whom, Niccolo, ran off to marry a young Greek woman in 1627. Niccolo's youngest brother grew up to marry Fragoletta, who bore him Giuseppe Ettore. Giuseppe learned the trade of shoemaking and set up for himself a successful business in Milan, where his only son, Bernardo, was born.

Bernardo's son, Andrea, fell madly in love with a young actress named Chiaretta, whom he married in 1713. His wife's father was so heartbroken from his daughter's clandestine marriage and his wife's death of smallpox two years prior that he poisoned himself; the newlyweds moved from Milan to Rome, upon Chiaretta's request. For Andrea she bore Romolo and Marzia Vargas.

Though something of a brute, Romolo was a natural charmer. If he was not enjoying himself with the young Venetian noblewomen and their shyly flirtatious daughters, or getting into brawls outside of inns and coffeehouses, he was studying both the physical and moral sciences under a brilliant doctor by the name of Claudio Schiavo. For 10 zecchini a month, Romolo was provided a bed, food, and education in the doctor's home.

Claudio had a daughter, named Silvia Maria, who was strictly off-limits to Romolo; she was betrothed to a very influential statesman, not to dally for even a moment with the son of a simple shoemaker.

Her virtue was never called into question, it being that she attended Mass every day with her mother and prayed more than a nun, but in Romolo the doctor may have seen himself as a young man; clever and flirtatious, self-control not yet abated by the call of the church or the hand of a dedicated lover. He was cautious, and with good reason.

It seemed, however, that the young Vargas had inherited the romantic insistence of his ancestor Don Jose, because, within a year, Silvia Maria was pregnant. They were married; Romolo was cast miles out of the doctor's favor; and the two were left with nowhere to go where they would not be ostracized for their sins.

Finally, after a month of living at an inn not good enough even for its rats, a friend-of-a-friend contacted Romolo with a generous offer. _There is a job currently available in Venice_, he'd written, _and it's a good one, if you don't mind learning moving north. _Romolo jumped at the opportunity, and by the time their daughter Lovina Romana Vargas was two, he had earned enough to move them into a nice home along one of the Rios in Venice.

There, Venetia Felicia was born, relieving those who were worried that Lovina, with all her faults and inabilities, would be the family's only young lady to show off to the public. Three years following that, Silvia Maria died giving birth to Giacomo, who miraculously lived, to be raised simultaneously by both an incompetent nanny and the pushy Lovina.

Ignoring their father's ever-worsening addictions like a man ignores his constant headaches for _years_ before going to the doctor, the three Vargas children grew to be vibrant young citizens in the civilization that was drawing its final, glorious breath. Lovina and Venetia were young ladies admired for their beauty; Gino (as Giacomo was nicknamed) was just as clever and charming as his father, but with none of the malicious intent. Their lives were compacted to the size of their childhood home, only sometimes spreading further, but full of the small joys that kept them content until well into the crisis that would change their lives forever.

In 1743, Romolo Vargas, son of Andrea Vargas, married Silvia Maria Schiavo. Together they gave the world Lovina Romana, Venetia Felicia, and Giacomo Alvise, never once realizing just how significant each may be.

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><p>1763, and the Grand Canal was not the only thing that glittered in the Venetian sun. Gondolas, polished to obsidian shine, sliced through the water, in their bellies ladies all dolled up in gold and pearls, giggling and gossiping amongst themselves. Gentlemen strolled the Riva, discussed math and religion and revolution while avoiding the children that darted around their feet, chasing hoops and terriers, shrieking in joy.<p>

Late May caught the Serenissima a civilization purely _alive. _Artists flocked to the Republic's many theatres to rehearse the last of the season's productions, just as hawkers marketed their luxuries– fans, wigs, masks, spices, oils, tales of the orient many paid to read about in fine novels. A man with a bear cub on a chain stood on one corner, staring listlessly as boys prodded it; teenagers crowded by the edge of the canal to have a contest over who could spit watermelon seeds the furthest.

On the water, a lady beckoned to her lover, playing coy behind her silken Spanish fan. Cloistered virgins from the Pietá tried not to stop and stare at the luxuries they rarely even got to see for themselves, as they returned from performing at a nobleman's party. In the background ran a permanent track of white noise; conversation, the occasional shouting match, the canal's water slapping against the banks, wooden wheels clattering, dogs barking and birds flapping their wings to touch the morning sun.

Lovina and Venetia Vargas paraded the Riva, glad to be out of the house for a bit while their father ranted half-drunkenly to Gino; something to do with the girl he'd been visiting, no doubt, as Romolo planned for his son to become a bishop, and such impious behavior was unbecoming to a man destined for the holy life. Venetia was giggling about something-or-other, Lovina barely listening as she watched the boats on the Canal bob with the gentle current.

"Oh! Sorella, look! Let's buy some!"

Snapped out of her thought, Lovina turned to see what her sister was pointing so excitedly at, wrenching her little hand off the sleeve of her green dress as she took in the (admittedly wonderful-looking) assortment of candied fruits and nuts. They were on display in the front window of the general store from which they bought their candles... It was also famous for being the biggest hub of gossip, outside the few art galleries and the Ridotto itself. A defeated nod led Venetia to squeal excitedly and drag her sister inside, using a strength she had only when food and fancy clothing were involved.

Candy just happened to be Venetia's greatest weakness of all. When, as a Christmas gift, one of the Germans with whom their father associated brought them a box of chocolates, she hadn't been able to stop crying out of sheer joy for almost an hour. Lovina enjoyed them too, but didn't quite like the man who gave it to them, and so hid well her sentiments; Vash was sullen and severe, traits she may have recognized if she wasn't so enamored with the image of the perfect woman she fancied herself to be.

Inside, the store was cramped, crowded with ladies around the front desk - they were all vying for a look at the latest imports of silk from Lyons, in the light shades well-suited to the upcoming summer months and the foreign travels that entailed. Lovina soon joined them, after giving her sister some money to buy her candy.

She was greeted in soft murmurs, with quick pitying glances all around, such a thing that she had dealt with this all her life, but one that never failed to infuriate her. Lovina's manner immediately soured; she was unwilling to appear civil and graceful to those who so obviously felt sorry for her, even if they were the ladies whose ranks she hoped to someday join.

An awkward silence passed before Lovina broke it with an announcement: "If you've all something to say, say it now."

She glanced down at the fabrics after she had done so. They were obviously too expensive for her to even cast a wistful touch on, but appearances were everything; while the others hemmed and hawed awkwardly like caged birds disturbed, Lovina inspected the silk as if considering what she might do with it if she were to buy it. Bedsheets, a bodice, or breeches?

"We heard of your father…" one of the girls, by the name of Francesca Bruno, finally ventured, looking to her sister for guidance. Said elder rolled her eyes at Francesca's timidness, taking out a fan and flicking it over her mouth as she carried on for her.

"It is floating around that he gambled everything left at the Ridotto last night, I am _so _sorry to say. But you must know already! My own husband witnessed him; he was crawling under the tables, drunk and confused, looking for zecchini with which to play… If you are in need, dear, never hesitate to call! We understand how hard it must be to maintain a family while the head is pouring all its money away to cards."

The ladies nodded quickly, glancing back and forth between faces and fabrics. Lovina, dumbstruck for a moment, could do nothing but stare back, taking in each pair of eyes as they met with hers. In some there was genuine concern, but most others held only shallow mockery, pity, and contempt. _Just another girl headed for the nunnery, _she knew they all thought unanimously. _Pity; she was almost marriageable. _

It took a moment for Lovina to remember herself, upon which time she reddened immensely and drew herself up to full height, holding her chin up with the dignity she knew was not backed by anything but her own illusion. Glancing around to see where her sister may be, and finding her near the door, she said simply:

"I need no help of yours, ladies!"

And she strode away from the gaggle of them, collecting her sister effortlessly on the way to the door, letting her held-back tears spill only when they had stepped out onto the street again.

Thankfully, nobody took notice of her enough to stop or stare. Lovina had grown remarkably good at appearing to be strong even when in the midst of uncontrollable sobs; or she was, at least, good enough to fool her siblings. Venetia, for once understanding that now was not a time for jokes, held her cheesecloth full of treats tightly in one hand, guiding her sister with the other. It was not a far walk at all to meet their hired gondolier, and though they hadn't been out the full five hours for which they rented him, it would be best to return home where Lovina could collect herself in solitude. If there was anything she hated more than having emotions in the first place, it was showing them in public.

"Don't worry over them, sorella, their heads are all as empty as bird's nests in December. I'm sure papa hasn't done a thing they accuse him of, and even if he has, you're smart enough to get us out of it!"

Venetia tried to hold a cheery tone, but faltered: she hadn't had a new dress in months, something her father would normally have never allowed, especially for his favorite child. Nowadays, fashion was kept up by the Vargas girls only by clever use of stitching and spare silks, as well as hours spent dressing each other's hair, and learning the new techniques required of fashionable makeup.

Perhaps it was true that Romolo had gambled away the last of what they had… No, it wasn't a _perhaps _anymore, it was a harsh reality that Lovina dreaded facing, almost as much as –

"Lovina!"

The two stopped cold, at the exact same time turning to look at the man who had called from his peota. He shared it with two others, lovely young women with yellow skirts and their hair up in elaborate buns. They were his sisters, they knew, for his usual target of affection was off on vacation with her brand-new husband. It was a pity. Without her, he poured all of his love into his chase of Lovina, who was, to be kind, not _quite _amused by it.

"Antonio! I thought... I thought I wrote to you on the matter of speaking to me!"

And Lovina had; the scathing note had also been 'accidentally' dropped into the canal by her delivery boy, Gino himself, who liked Antonio so much he wanted his sister to marry him and schemed just often enough to keep him interested, and her, annoyed enough to pay him attention.

The Spaniard grinned, letting his arm down from the overexcited wave it had been suspended in. He chose to ignore her response, launching instead into his favorite speech, which all involved listened to with measures of interest. His eloquence in Italian was admired greatly by even native speakers, though his Venetian accent left something to be desired.

"I declare our Lord, once and for all, one who is kind and merciful, for he allows me to witness the ethereal beauty you possess, without punishment so typical of him in eras past. Ah, Lovina, if you would join me here, I shall die happy, and ask no more of you for as long as I live. Not a touch, nor a kiss, just sit with me a while, and talk. Please?"

"No."

Not a word more as she walked away; Lovina's personal laws dictated that she not encourage him in any way, shape or form, so long as she could help it. Venetia, however, cast him a wink and a grin before dashing after her sister, forgetting all that may have gone wrong as she shrieked for her to wait up.

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><p><em>Notes (in alphabetical order):<em>

**Lyons – **place in France that produced much of Europe's fashionable silk around this time

… **after Venice fell …** – up to 1797, Venice was its own republic. After that, it was taken by Napoleon and became a part of Italy.

**Peota – **small boat common in Venice

**physical and moral sciences **– old-fashioned terminology; physical sciences are like chemistry, physics, astronomy… and moral sciences are like medicine, psychology, and philosophy.

**Pietá - **one of Venice's Ospedali, or institutions that took in orphaned and abandoned girls and raised them. The Pietá was famous for producing dazzlingly good musicians. So named because these were often wings of hospitals.

**Rios** – general name for the smaller canals of Venice

**Riva** – wide street along the Grand Canal

**Ridotto - **a very popular casino in Venice; also served as a social hub

**Serenissima – **another name for the Republic of Venice, which was independent until the 1790's

**Zecchini – **small gold coins, one of Venice's main forms of pre-Napoleonic currency

_If you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more, please review!_


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